Sometimes we don’t have the words to describe our pain. Sometimes it feels anxiety-provoking to sit with a new counselor, or even a therapist we’ve been working with for awhile, and share our most vulnerable secrets. Our shame. Experiences that feel unique, lonely, regrettable.
As a therapist, I know that there are times when a barrage of questions isn’t the right method for growth between my client and myself. Sometimes sitting in silence isn’t the correct move either. These times where I’ve felt that there is more for the client to share with me, but the “talking cure” isn’t useful, I’ve turned to Expressive Arts modalities instead. One very young client I saw during my practicum presented as (nearly) selectively mute. To my several introductory questions, to my attempts to build rapport with her, she would answer “I don’t know.”
“What are some of your hobbies?”
“I don’t know.”
“Which classes are your favorite?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you think your teacher suggested counseling for you?”
“I don’t know.”
Time to switch tactics. I brought out paper and crayons. She seemed to enjoy the change and proceeded to doodle away. I drew alongside her, watching her. I asked her about her drawing and how she felt making art with me. This helped her to feel more comfortable speaking, to build trust with me. The questions weren’t so pointed.
I showed her the wall of bricks I had drawn. I shared my feeling about my doodle and our relationship:
“When you answer so many questions with ‘I don’t know’, I feel like there is a Wall between us, separating us. I’d like to get closer to you as we work together.”
A large, mischievous grin spread over her face. She was a 6th grader who knew that she was stonewalling me and, to some degree, enjoying it. The Expressive Arts gave us both a safe and creative way to explore our exchange/lack of exchange. It allowed us to discuss the process and to move forward.
I have an adult client I see currently who gave me permission to share a drawing I’d asked her to create for me within this blog. She is someone that is grieving her change in identity due to surviving Bipolar I Disorder. The psych medication changes us, no doubt. While avoiding psychotic episodes is definitely a benefit of taking one’s medication, there also comes the missing of our hypomanic times. The surplus of energy, the seeming ability to accomplish more than others. To be better. My client lamented how she used to rollerblade around, before being heavily medicated. “I had a lot of energy!” She misses her motivation to work on a vast number of goals. “I’ve had it so hard and worked hard, too!”
There might come a point where we’ve spoken about this pain, this grief, for numerous sessions. I can empathize, I’ve been there. I can listen. But when there aren’t enough words, and there aren’t the right words to fully process the experience, it’s time to try something else. I asked this client to draw me a picture of herself, as she used to be prior to the medication, on her rollerblades. She drew this as an assignment between sessions and added various thought/conversation bubbles. The commentary she shared allowed us to explore other aspects of her grief: Her anger with others, her feelings of being misunderstood, her suspicion that people had been jealous of her during the lead-up to her mania. It allowed for deeper movement in the therapeutic process.
When we make art, doodle, journal, write poetry, noodle around with a musical instrument, take pictures, we can get into an emotional flow. We can access experiences and feelings that might not be on the tip of our tongue. Art is something I recommend for therapists to use in their own self-care/healing. What one makes does not need to be perfect, or professional. Expressive Arts is a method I recommend counselors learn more about and explore with clients who are open to it. Show me your art. Help me understand your lived experience.
